


Stung

by asweallfallfromgrace



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Poisoning, Sickfic, Whumptober 2020, bee stings, characters are minors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweallfallfromgrace/pseuds/asweallfallfromgrace
Summary: Ash has a bit of a rough encounter with some Beedrill.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Stung

**Author's Note:**

> Comfort-writing fic with almost no actual substantive plot other than “ash is a dumb boy and he also deserves all the comfort”. 
> 
> Technically I wrote this last year (almost on the dot, actually) but I did some revising and it actually fits a couple of this year’s Whumptober prompts (“poisoning” and “punctured”) so, yeah.

He really shouldn’t have gone off by himself. 

The hoard of Beedrill were hot on Ash’s heels, the buzzing ringing out all around him as he ran. 

He’d had to use the bathroom right after dinner. On his way back to the camp, he’d tripped and hit a bush, which, evidently, was part of their territory, and now he was paying for it. 

He fumbled for his Pokéballs, only to find empty space, and he groaned aloud. His belt, all his Pokémon, even Pikachu, were back at the camp with Misty and Brock. 

He was in some serious trouble.

He flung himself onto the ground, instinctively covering his head and neck as the Beedrill descended upon him.

As the white-hot pain of a sting shot twice through his shoulder, then his leg, he did the only thing he could think to do — he screamed, hoping his companions would hear him. 

——

Ash didn’t pass out completely, but his senses had become dulled, like he was experiencing the world from underwater. It, somehow, reminded him of Misty and her water Pokemon, and, despite the situation at hand, he almost laughed as he imagined himself as Psyduck. He had the headache to match, anyway.

As soon as he did, though, he had to bite his lip. His shoulder and leg were throbbing in time with each other, and it felt like fire was flowing through his veins. He’d never felt pain like this before. He didn’t dare to move — his head was still buzzing, though he wasn’t sure if that was due to an actual Beedrill or just the effects of what was no doubt the poison.

He struggled to pull himself to a sitting position, but the pain was too much, and he had to settle for rolling onto his back.

If this was what Pokemon felt when they battled Beedrill, he hoped that none of his opponents in the League had one. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone, but especially not his Pokemon.

“Pika-pi!”

A familiar yellow blob had entered his blurry vision, and relief flooded him.

“Pikachu,” he said weakly, but the blob had disappeared from his line of sight. He could still hear it, though, and he struggled to make sense of the noises.

“Pika-chu! Pikachu-pi!”

The voices were louder now, but he still couldn’t make sense of what they were saying, until suddenly there were two blurry faces in his vision.

Misty and Brock, his brain supplied after a moment of lag.

They’d found him.

Things went even more foggy after that. His vision was beginning to tunnel, his hearing was fading in and out, and his brain felt staticky, like the old TV in his bedroom at home in Pallet Town. He really wanted to be home, in his warm bed...he shivered, feeling cold out of nowhere, and he heard Brock’s voice say something about a fever. 

Things suddenly went weightless for a moment, and he felt himself be lifted. The movement jostled his injuries, and he let out a strangled noise at the sudden flare of pain. That was met with more words he couldn’t understand in their entirety, but he caught Misty’s voice pleading for him to stay awake.

He tried to do what she said, but he must have gone out anyway, because the next thing Ash knew he was being put down on something soft. Pikachu curled up on his chest, just below his good shoulder. The warmth of his partner was comforting, seeping through what felt like the layer of ice surrounding him, and he closed his eyes again.

Misty apparently wasn’t having it, because her voice cut back in. “Not again, Ash, you have to stay awake.” 

He forced his leaden eyes back open, noticing that his vision had cleared a bit. Misty was directly in his line of sight, and just beyond her he could see Brock, who appeared to be looking for something in his backpack. 

“Talk to me. What moves does Pikachu have?” Misty asked, and Ash tried to retrieve the seemingly-irrelevant information from his foggy brain. 

“Thunderbolt, thunder shock, agility...” he managed to rasp out, his eyes fluttering. He really wanted nothing more than to sleep right now...who cared what moves his Pokemon had?

“You do.” Misty said. He must’ve said that aloud. “What about Charmander? Squirtle?”

Ash tried to tune her out, but Pikachu must’ve been in league with Misty, because it climbed up onto his head and said “Pika-pi!”, right into his ear. 

“Brock, will you hurry up?” Misty yelled at the exact same time, probably louder than she strictly needed to. 

Ash flinched at the sudden onslaught of noise.

“Found it!” Brock said triumphantly, turning towards the pair.

“The Antidote or the first aid kit?” Misty asked.

“Both.” He held up a small spray bottle filled with a yellow liquid and a plastic box, the latter of which he handed to Misty, who immediately started digging through it.

Ash had manage to tune out most of their conversation, still struggling to stay awake through the thick fog, but he stirred when he felt Brock’s hand on his good shoulder.

“Ash, I’ve got some Antidote to put on the stings.” Brock said. “It’s probably going to be uncomfortable, but it’ll help you feel better.”

Something seemed weird about that statement, but at that point, Ash would have gone along with anything to ease the fiery pain, and he allowed the medicine to be sprayed onto the wounds. Brock was right, it wasn’t pleasant - it felt like an icicle was being thrust into his skin - but the burning pain began to fade after a few seconds. 

“Feels...good...” he slurred. “No more Flamethrower...” The words seemed to shift between his mind and his mouth, but it was too much effort to try to elaborate.

“He’s not making sense.” Misty said, continuing her excavation of the first aid kit. 

“That’s probably the fever from the poison. It usually really kicks in about an hour after the sting.” Brock replied. “Did you find the bandages?”

She tossed him the roll of fabric. “How do you know so much about treating Beedrill stings?”

“There were a lot of them near Pewter City. My younger siblings really liked playing outside. I was the one who dealt with the inevitable.” he replied, unrolling the bandages. “Ash, I’m just going to bandage the stings. Try not to move.” 

Misty watched as he begun to wrap the roll around their friend’s leg. “You mean this has happened to you before?” 

Brock nodded. “Two of my siblings, plus a couple wild Pokemon in town.” He paused when he saw Misty’s concerned expression. “All of them were fine. I think it looks and feels worse than it actually is.”

“Well, it looks bad enough to me. I didn’t even know Pokemon medicine worked on humans.” 

“Well, sort of. I think Antidote and maybe Burn Heal are the only two that do.” Brock replied, moving on to Ash’s shoulder. “And even so, humans process them differently. So even with the Antidote, I think Ash is going to be miserable for a few days.” 

“Great, he’ll love that.” Misty said, with a wry smile that quickly turned serious. “Are you sure we shouldn’t take him to a hospital though?”

“I checked the map, there’s not even a town for miles. If he gets really bad, we could send one of our Pokemon for help, but for now I think the two of us can handle it. There we go.” He’d finished wrapping the stings.

“Pika-pi.” Pikachu interjected, still on Ash awakeness duty, and Misty gave the little Pokemon a gentle pat. 

“You’d make a good alarm clock.”

“But...I broke my alarm clock.” Ash replied, sounding anxious all of a sudden. “I’m late for getting my starter!” His eyes snapped open and he deliriously struggled to sit up, seemingly oblivious to his Pokemon directly in front of his face. 

“Ash, calm down,” Brock said, at the same time that Misty said, “It’s okay, Ash, you’re not late for anything. You’re sick.”

“No, I have to go...gonna be late...the Professor is gonna be mad at me...” He groaned at the pain the movement caused. 

“Ash, that was six months ago. You’re okay.” Misty said, sharing a helpless look with Brock. “Does he know who we are? Does he even understand what we’re saying?” He shrugged, turning to the youngest of the group. 

“Ash, can you understand me?” he asked. “Do you know who we are?”

Ash stilled, his eyelids lowering, but didn’t answer the question beyond muttering about badges and bikes. 

Misty rolled her eyes half-heartedly. “Is that all we are to you?”

“Yeah,” Ash mumbled. “Want to sleep.”

Brock chuckled a bit at his reply to the situation. “Go ahead and sleep, we’ve got you.” 

Immediately Ash went slack. 

The other two looked at him. “I hate this.” Misty said. 

“Pika.” Pikachu concurred.

“I do too, but he’ll be fine.” 

——

Everything was huge.

Ash had been shrunk again — Sabrina and her creepy doll and her Abra — no, Kadabra, it evolved — had trapped him in that dollhouse, alone, and she kept shaking it and tossing balls at him. But he was dizzy, and he was nauseous, and so, so cold. He yelled and screamed for Sabrina to stop, but she didn’t, and suddenly he was falling, falling into one of Team Rocket’s traps, but this one seemed to go on forever...

“Ash, hey, Ash, wake up!” Someone was shaking his good shoulder, and he blearily opened his eyes. He was not in a dollhouse, at least if the starry sky above him was any indication. He was sprawled out on his sleeping bag, and Brock was looking at him with concern. 

“Not in a dollhouse.”

Brock placed his hand on his forehead, checking his temperature. “We are definitely not in a dollhouse. Were you dreaming about Sabrina?”

Ash nodded, suddenly noticing how dry his throat was. “Is there water?”

Brock held up their canteen. “Yeah. Can you sit up?” 

It felt like all his muscles had been drained of their strength, and Ash was mortified to find that he couldn’t perform the simple task.

“I can’t,” he said, his cheeks burning.

Brock put the canteen down next to Ash’s head. “It’s okay, I can help if you want.”

Ash nodded, still feeling embarrassed, but before he knew it he was sitting up with the canteen held to his lips. The water was cool, which somehow felt good and bad at the same time. He was so thirsty, though, so he gulped down the water. 

“You gotta slow down, Ash, or you’re going to be sick.” 

Right on cue, a wave of nausea hit him, hard, and he turned and retched into the grass. The fresh pain the movement brought, along with the nausea, brought tears to his eyes, and he hiccuped and almost sobbed with the intensity of the sensation. He hated this, he hated this whole situation so much. 

He definitely appreciated not being alone though - Brock was rubbing circles into his back, and it was comforting. He was also saying something, but Ash couldn’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears. 

The iron grip of the nausea finally loosened, and he fell back, exhausted. 

“I think your cooking tastes better the first time,” he said weakly. Brock gave him a relieved smile.

“I hope it does.” he said.

“What’s going on? Are you okay, Ash?” Misty, who’d been asleep a few feet away, had woken up, and was looking at her companions with mild alarm. Then she saw the grass, and a combination of disgust and concern passed across her face.

“Oh, Ash.” she said, carefully sidestepping the puddle and kneeling at his head. She looked up at Brock. “I can keep an eye on him for a while...why don’t you get some sleep?” 

The role reversal clearly wasn’t lost on Brock, who seemed torn but accepted the command-disguised-as-question. “If things get any worse, wake me up, okay?”

Misty nodded, her eyes on Ash’s pallid face. 

—  
He’d finally made it to the Pokemon League. 

He and Pikachu were up against a Charizard, and Pikachu was losing. Badly. 

Except the Charizard suddenly turned on him, using its Flamethrower on him. He was burning....

“Ash!” This time it was Misty’s voice cutting into his nightmare. “Ash!” 

A few seconds later, there was the sound of a Pokeball opening. “Staryu, use Water Gun on Ash!”

A stream of ice-cold water hit Ash right in the face, and he sputtered, his eyes flying open and then immediately squinting at the combined sensory assault of the water on his face and the sun in his eyes.

“Why?” he ground out, shivering.

”You’re awake now, aren’t you?”

He was too cold and exhausted to even try to argue with that, and he instinctively snuggled deeper into his now-damp sleeping bag, jarring both the stings and Pikachu in the process. 

“Ow,” he mumbled. “Hurts.”

“Pika,” Pikachu sounded concerned for his injured trainer.

“I think there might be painkillers in Brock’s bag,” she said. “Want me to look?”

“Yeah.” Ash said, despite having only processed half of what she’d said. 

“What’s in my bag?” Brock asked, his voice clouded with sleep, and Misty jumped. 

“Don’t scare me like that!” she chided. “I was thinking Ash might need some painkillers.”

His brow furrowed in concern. “Ash, are you in pain?”

What a stupid question. Of course he was in pain. 

“Hurts.” he repeated. “Charizard...” 

“His fever’s still there,” Misty said. “He wouldn’t wake up from a nightmare - I think that’s why he’s talking about a Charizard.”

“Does that have anything to do with why his face is wet?”

“I panicked!” Misty snapped. “Are you going to help him or not?”

Brock held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I think he needs some more Antidote, and the painkillers aren’t a bad idea. I probably should’ve thought of that earlier.”

He pulled out a small bottle of ibuprofen from his bag, along with the spray bottle. 

“I think it’s again your turn to get some sleep. You were up most of the night, after all.”

“I don’t want to sleep if Ash is like this.” she said, gesturing at the feverish form in the sleeping bag. “I’m too worried about him.”

“If you don’t sleep, you’ll get sick too.” Brock said. “You were only sleeping for a few minutes before the last time he woke up. At least lie down for a few minutes.”

“Fine.” Misty half-stormed off. 

“She sure has a funny way of showing she cares,” he said, partly to himself. He turned to Ash, who wasn’t asleep but wasn’t quite awake either. “Hey, Ash, I’m going to put some more Antidote on your stings, okay?” The only reply was an unintelligible mumble.

Maybe it was the fever playing tricks on him, but through Ash’s clouded mind, it felt even worse than the first time — like ice water was running through his veins. He felt like he’d been caught in some Pokémon’s Ice Beam. He shifted and made a strangled sound that sounded to be somewhere between a groan and a scream. 

“Pika-pi!” Pikachu, who’d been lightly dozing next to its trainer, woke with alarm. 

The spraying sound stopped, replaced with Brock’s voice, gentle but tinged with concern. “It’s okay, Ash, Pikachu, it’s over.“

The freezing sensation abated, and Ash relaxed, breathing hard. He opened his eyes, looking at his friend kneeling next to his sleeping bag. “That really hurt, Brock.” The phrase came out almost like a whine. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Brock replied. “Are you at least feeling better now?”

Ash had to admit, he was. He was still quite cold — he could tell the fever was still there, and his shoulder and leg still throbbed — but he felt much less cloudy, and he could clearly understand what was going on. 

“I don’t feel as foggy.” he said. “Still hurts, though.”

Brock nodded, and placed his hand on Ash’s forehead. “Looks like your fever’s gone down.” he said. “I have some painkillers you can take if you want. You should probably eat something first, though.” 

Despite his earlier bout of nausea, food sounded quite good to Ash, and as if on cue, his stomach growled. Brock grinned.

“Looks like you agree. Let’s see what we’ve got.” He gave Pikachu a pat on the head. “Keep an eye on him for me, Pikachu.” 

“Pika-chu!” Pikachu replied, chipper now that Ash was feeling better, and climbed onto Ash. “Pika-pi.”

Ash stroked his partner’s fur, reveling in the warmth, and closed his eyes again.


End file.
